Peter & Wendy
by Larking
Summary: Harry's friendship with Luna was always special.  Rated "T" for vocabulary and mature - not "inappropriate" - ideas. This is my first fic; reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.


Harry had never been able to turn down an invitation from Luna. Today, a fine, very English summer's day, she had invited him to join her for an early-afternoon picnic near the river that flowed a little ways from her house.

Now, usually it would seem odd for a man in a relationship to go on what may be viewed as a "date" with a woman who was not the person with whom he was in said relationship, but recently Harry and Ginny's relationship had hit a rough patch, and they were taking a short break.

Thus, Harry was out on a picnic with Luna.

Harry's relationship with Luna was very special, and they both valued it very highly. Ever since they met during Harry's third year, and bonded over, of all things, Thestrals, Luna had gotten to know him at an intimate level that even Ron and Hermione didn't reach. It wasn't that they routinely got together, braiding each other's hair and swapping secrets, but that Luna simply seemed to _know_. Whatever it was to know, Luna simply _knew_ it. And Harry knew all there was to know about Luna simply by asking – she was more than happy to share.

Therefore, their friendship was unique. As a result of their intimacy, they each harbored extreme amount of fondness and affection for the other. And since this was Luna, there was little Harry could do with her and feel like it was abnormal. The zenith of this was the physical nature of their relationship: it completely lacked any sexual nuances or desire. The occasional kiss to the forehead, nose, cheek or hand was not a form of foreplay, and hugging, holding hands, spooning or cuddling was not an attempt to grind their newly-adult bodies together as much as possible – it was all just an unbridled display of their affection and love, and did not go beyond those things.

Well, _sometimes_ the kissing did – they had once gotten into an intense tickling war, and during their play Harry scraped his elbow. Luna had had no choice but to mend the battle wound with a healing kiss. But those were special circumstances.

Still recovering from that injury and some very laugh-sore sides, Harry hoped there would be little to no tickling today. In order to thwart Luna's savage ticklery, Harry brought with him a gift. He occasionally brought her gifts when they got together – typically Muggle things he came across that he knew she'd find entertaining. Her favorite thus far was the Muggle story Peter Pan, which Harry had obtained at a bookshop during an odd visit to the Dursley's, to make sure that they were, indeed, still alive after the great wizarding war. Luna had delighted in the novelty of Muggle children being enchanted by fairies to fly, and the thought of a world in which one never grew up. In their own way, Harry and Luna were very much like Peter and Wendy when they were together.

Or rather, Wendy and Peter.

That is, Luna was the Peter to Harry's Wendy, as Luna perpetually lived in her own odd little world, and in their time together, would bring Harry into it, just as Peter Pan was perpetually a child and did nothing but play, and brought Wendy to the Neverland. And just as no one in the Neverland grew up, so Harry and Luna felt quite like children when they were together. Sir J.M. Barrie said that children are "gay and innocent and heartless", and that is precisely how they felt.

Of course, when Sir Barrie said "heartless", what he meant was "selfish and uncaring of consequences". Indeed, Harry felt suddenly indifferent about how people viewed him when he was with Luna, or what the results of their childish escapades would be; Luna, on the other hand, never cared what anyone thought. That's the "uncaring", but then there's the question about the "selfish" bit. Now, "selfish" is very negative-sounding, but it's undeniable that children are very selfish – that is, they think nothing of how the world works outside of their own personal view. They are, as adults say, "ego-centric". And indeed, Harry also felt suddenly indifferent about the rest of the world when he was with Luna, since nothing but whatever was going on in those individual moments seemed to matter.

So that is what they were together: gay and innocent and heartless children.

Today, however, he had just a bottle of bubbles for her. Again, Harry had simply happened upon it, but he knew that Luna would find it entertaining, despite the simplicity of the gift. So with bubbles in pocket and lightness in heart, Harry climbed a hill, past the Lovegood's rook-house, and headed toward the river. He spotted Luna as he made his way over the top of the hill: she had already laid out a blanket and basket where the back of the hill made a moderately steep slope to the riverbank – an excellent slope for rolling down, Luna had shared.

They greeted one another with hugs and pleasantries, and Luna made a point not to ask about Ginny, as she had known (of course) that Harry did not want to talk about it. They sat down on the kitschy, patchy blanket Luna had made, and began to eat the lunch Luna had prepared. Most people would be concerned about Luna's cooking, but Harry had grown used to it, and realized that, once one looked past the obscure ingredients and often odd appearance, it was good. Thus, they ate and talked blithely, and when they finished Harry presented his gift. Luna was very pleased, and delighted in the cleverness with which Muggles created soap solely for this application, and made a "wand" (Muggles call this a "wand"!) that was perfectly crafted to make bubbles. Luna, always eager to share, magically replicated the bottle, and they spent what felt like several wonderful hours blowing as many bubbles as possible; catching them on the wands or watching them drift off in the gentle breeze.

Once their bubble supplies were exhausted, they respited to lying back close-together on the blanket and watching the large, lazy, puffy white clouds that decorated the perfectly, un-replicate-able blue sky on this fine, sunny, English summer's day, that was that funny, indescribable temperature between pleasantly warm and pleasantly cool. They pointed out the clouds' shapes, which took the forms of everything from flowers and broomsticks to Nargles and Crumple-horned Snorkaks. They listened to the birds singing in the nearby forest, and tried to interpret their songs and conversations. They soon cuddled together and began to doze off, ignorant and blissful, breathing sweet, fresh air as that gentle breeze teased at their hair.

And they felt perfectly childish.

* * *

><p><em>There you have it, then. This is my first-ever FanFic for anything, so a little slack is appreciated, as is any constructive criticism. Please note that repetition and general contrived-ness (for lack of a better term) is part of my style and is intentional. You may notice I'm right lousy with beginnings and endings, so I apologize in advance.<br>_


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